Vade Mecum
by Frost Deejn
Summary: Sequel to Kind of Like Evil. Goren and Eames investigate when a man who seemed to have no enemies is beaten to death. Eames has second thoughts about requesting a new partner.
1. The Case

Disclaimer: _Law & Order: Criminal Intent_ isn't mine.

A/N: Takes place between their first case in _Kind of Like Evil_ and the first episode of the show, "One."  


Vade Mecum  


Chapter 1: The Case

The morning sun cast long shadows across the rooftop. The recent rain left the air crisp and clear. Sounds of morning traffic drifted languidly from the streets far below. The scene could almost be described as peaceful if it weren't for the corpse in the middle of it.

Detective Alex Eames sniffed her hot coffee to cover the cloying scent of decomp as she and her partner approached the body.

"His name was Kirk Magda," said Officer Banik, who was showing them to the scene. "His wife reported him missing yesterday. He worked in this building, but nobody thought to look up here until they noticed the smell. It looks like he was beaten with a blunt object, but we haven't figured out what. Magda was a security analyst for the TelAcumen Corporation, which has been under investigation by the SEC off and on for years."

Ignoring the stench, Detective Bobby Goren leaned over the body. "The United States Securities and Exchange Commission...his murder could have something to do with what he knew about the company's business practices."

"Which is why it's a Major Case," Eames surmised.

Goren suddenly laughed.

"What's so funny?" Eames asked in a flat voice.

"Well, look where he is." He gestured to the edge of the roof, only a few meters away. "Look at the way his clothes are...trailing behind him. Someone was trying to drag him to the edge, probably to make it look like a suicide, and then gave up."

"Maybe realized not even a fall off a ten-story building could hide that this guy was beaten to death," Eames noted, looking at the bruises on the victim's face.

"No, he changed his mind," Goren stated.

"How do you know it's a 'he'?"

"Just...probably...from the beating. Someone strong." He quickly added, "Not that a woman wouldn't be strong enough to do this; she'd probably just find an easier way."

Eames resisted the urge to roll her eye. _One more case, _she thought. That's what Captain Deakins said to her when she submitted her request for a new partner a few days ago. It wasn't that she disliked Goren, it was more that the way his mind worked seemed to cut everyone else out. He was a genius, that was obvious; his mind raced ahead of everyone, and he rarely bothered to let other people in on his thought process. And then there was the way he related to suspects, the way he got during interrogations: intense, focused, unpredictable. He scared her a little. And for Alex Eames, who prided herself on never being intimidated by anyone, that was intolerable.

"So tell me, Sherlock," she said, "why would someone change his mind about staging a suicide?"

Goren looked up at her. "That I don't know yet."

Eames looked around the roof for any evidence the killer might have left behind. "The rain Friday night probably washed away anything useful."

"We should look at his office," Goren said. "I don't think he was killed up here."

The office door was unlocked. The room seemed clean and organized. On the desk was a stack of papers, family photos, and a large white computer pushed almost resentfully to the side. There were various photos and knickknacks on his bookshelf.

"Doesn't look like a crime scene," Eames observed.

Goren thumbed through the stack of papers, then looked around. He leaned over and squinted at the desk. "It's been cleaned up, but this is where the attack happened."

"What'd you find?"

"Well...look at this." He slid out a few sheets of paper, one of which had smeared ink, the others had impressions in the shape of water droplets. "It was raining. The killer was wet. There are water spots on the desk, and on the wall." He walked around the desk and faced the door. "Magda would have been standing here. The killer was...here." He took a couple of steps back and lifted his arms like he was holding something, then brought them down over the empty air where the victim would have been standing.

"There was no blood. What did he use to hit him?"

Goren turned around slowly. "Judging by the bruises, something large, but not very heavy. The killer wouldn't have brought it. That would have looked too suspicious."

"It doesn't look like anything's missing. The murder weapon could still be here." She began walking around the office while Goren instructed the photographer to document the water spots. "I'm not sure this was about his work. If someone from his company wanted him dead, they probably would have hired a professional," she speculated. "The beating the guy took looks personal."

"As you once said, some people take money very personally." He noticed something on the floor and stooped down. "Red hair..."

Eames paused from pulling a book off the shelf and peered at him as he picked up a single, short auburn hair and placed it in an evidence bag. "The vic's hair is brown. That could be from our killer," she said.

"Maybe."

"Speaking of the victim's hair, I might've found the murder weapon."

Goren stood up and looked at what Eames held: a thick book entitled _ The Ethics of Capitalism _ that had strands of dark brown hair stuck to its spine.

"It's the right shape and size. But who would beat someone to death with a book?"

"Probably less painful than forcing him to actually read it," Eames deadpanned as she slipped the murder weapon into an evidence bag.


	2. The Victim

Chapter 2: The Victim

The director of the New York City branch of the TelAcumen Corporation was a tall man with spiked iron-grey hair. He stood to greet the detectives when they entered his office. "Hello. I'm Stephen Gabor. I was Mr. Magda's supervisor. I want to assure you that you have this company's full cooperation."

"Good to know. I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Goren. Did Kirk Magda have any enemies?"

"Enemies? No. Everyone loved him. He did express concern that someone in the company was engaging in unethical financial arrangements, but he didn't tell me who," Gabor answered. "I think he might have suspected me."

"What did he tell you exactly?" Goren asked.

"Only that he thought we should involve an independent investigator to review our records for accounting irregularities. I told him I would take it under consideration, but I hadn't arranged it yet. This conversation occurred on Monday evening."

"Do you think someone in your company is...embezzling?"

Gabor fixed an unblinking stare on the detective. "No."

"What else can you tell us about Magda? Did he have any close friends in the office? Anyone he might have confided in?" Eames questioned.

"Not that I know of. Mr. Magda was very devoted to his family. If he confided in anyone, it was his wife."

* * *

The victim's widow, Laurel Magda, had tears in her eyes when she opened the door. 

"Mrs. Magda, I'm Detective Goren, this is my partner, Detective Eames. We'd like to ask you some questions about your husband."

She nodded. "I don't know how much I can tell you. I have no idea who would do something like this."

"Did your husband tell you he had some concerns about work?" Eames asked.

"He...told me one of his coworkers was a thief, but he didn't tell me who. He said not to mention it to anyone until he was sure. But whoever it was couldn't have known he suspected. Could they? I mean...could they have killed him?"

"We're looking into that," Goren said. "Did he have...any problems with anyone else? Anyone outside the office?"

She thought about it. She thought carefully. "A few days ago, he was arguing with someone over the phone. It sounded like it was over money, but he wouldn't tell me who he was talking to."

"When was that, exactly?" Eames asked.

"Um...let's see...Tuesday evening, I think."

"Have you been...having money troubles lately?"

"Why would you think that?"

"This room...the TV's too close to the desk, and there's not enough room for your books on the bookshelf. You moved in here recently? From a bigger place, maybe?"

Laurel nodded reluctantly. "I lost my job a few months ago, and haven't found a new one yet."

"We noticed that Kirk recently increased his life insurance so that you'd get half a million on his death. That seems kind of strange timing, since money's so tight," said Eames.

The widow stared at her incredulously. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Angry tears trickled from her eyes. "Because I would never do that! I loved him! And I would never do that to my kids, not for a billion dollars, not for anything! Believe me, Kirk's life...was worth way more than that."

Goren leaned forward. He spoke softly, soothingly. "We believe you, Laurel. We know you'd never do that to your husband. I can see how much you loved your husband. It's just standard procedure. They tell us we should always suspect the wife."

"I didn't kill him."

"I know." He glanced at Eames, silently urging her to contribute.

She couldn't help but admire how well her partner had diffused the situation. "I'm sorry I sounded like I suspected you. What I meant was that...he must have thought he was in some kind of danger to up his coverage."

Laurel nodded, still weeping. "I think he was nervous about the situation at work. He didn't like to worry me, so he didn't talk about it."

Goren picked up a photo of Kirk and Laurel Magda with two children off the table top. "Are these your kids?"

She nodded. "Vivian's eleven and Isaac's eight. They're staying with my brother while I take care of Kirk's...of the arrangements."

He examined the photo. The boy had blond hair, like his mother. The girl's hair was copper red. "Is Kirk their biological father?" he inquired.

"No. My ex-husband and I divorced five years ago, and I married Kirk three years ago. But he was more of a father to them than my ex could ever be."

"You...don't get along well with your ex, do you?"

She shrugged. "We're okay. We don't fight or anything. We'd never see each other if it weren't for the kids. Why?"

"How did he feel about your husband?"

"He didn't care. He left me for another woman and never looked back. He wouldn't have killed Kirk. They actually got along pretty well."

"We still need to question him. Can we get his contact information?" Eames asked.

"Of course."

They didn't speak after leaving the apartment until they got to the car. "I'm sorry I brought up the life insurance," Eames said. "I didn't know she'd react like that."

"No...it was good. Now we know how she reacts."

"How did you know just what to say to her?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "You just learn what people need to hear sometimes." He looked away from her, out the window.

Eames shook her head. They'd been partners for over a month, but there was still so much she didn't know about him. And the more she learned, the more she found to admire. He could be reassuring and self-effacing toward witnesses just as easily as he could be intimidating to a suspect. She hadn't figured out how he could seem as gentle as a puppy one minute, and the next minute he could fill a room with his presence and stare so intensely at a suspect that he seemed like a predatory beast whose wildness was contained only (and barely) by his skin. He was either completely unstable, or the deepest person she knew. She could never tell what was real and what was an act. Maybe he was acting all the time; however he chose to present himself usually proved to be exactly what the situation called for.

Maybe she didn't really want to leave the partnership just yet, Eames thought as she drove.

* * *

Blaser Carlson, Laurel Magda's ex-husband, had short red hair that matched the one they found in the victim's office. 

"I'm sorry to hear Kirk's dead," he told them. "He was so great for Laurel. He was a great guy."

"Have you spoken to him recently?" Goren asked.

"Not for a while. Why?"

"Because," Eames answered, "we found evidence that you've been to his office."

He thought for a moment. "I did talk to him at his office a couple of weeks ago."

"What about?" she inquired.

Blaser dropped his eyes slightly. "I...I kind of got a little over my head gambling in Atlantic City last month. I was asking him for a loan. Kirk was a really generous guy. He gave Laurel's brother a huge loan to open a bookstore last year, and his friends were always borrowing money from him. But he told me he was a little tight lately and couldn't help me, so I left."

"And you asked him in person? Why didn't you just call him?"

"It seemed more respectful, and...I really didn't want Laurel to find out."

"I get that," Goren said. "You couldn't show weakness like that in front of your ex."

"Something like that," he admitted reluctantly.

"Do you get along well with her?"

"Yeah. Our break-up was completely mutual. We just...had different interest and aims. We didn't haggle over the kids or anything. We're both a lot happier now. Er, I mean we _were. _I guess Kirk being dead is going to change that." He thought for a moment. "What does our divorce have to do with Kirk's murder?"

"Probably nothing."

"Mr. Carlson, where were you Friday night?" Eames asked.

"I was here, at home."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"Just my wife. She's at work right now, but I can get you her number."

"We'll talk to her later," Goren assured him. "Did Kirk Magda tell you anything about his work? Was he having problems with anyone that you know of?"

"No. He was the greatest guy. It was impossible not to like him. I can't imagine who would kill him." He laughed. "I mean, even _I _liked him. That's got to tell you something about the guy."


	3. The Call

Chapter 3: The Call

Goren set Eames' coffee on her desk, then sat down with his own.

"Thanks," Eames muttered over the stack of papers she was reading through.

"Have you found anything?"

"I called Laurel Magda to ask about a couple of names that came up on the vic's home phone records. He called Laurel's brother, Michael Taggart, around the time Laurel heard the argument."

Goren nodded thoughtfully. "Mr. Carlson did say Kirk loaned his brother-in-law money. Maybe he was calling in the debt. Has the forensic accountant finished going over the financial records TelAcumen sent us?"

"No," she said. "But I know what you're thinking. Whatever Magda suspected was going on at that company had him spooked."

He turned to his computer screen. "I've been...looking into TelAcumen. I can see why Magda would be nervous about going after anyone in the company. They're involved in designing and manufacturing high-tech electronics and software. A lot of its business is outsourcing from computer companies, but it also has...defense contracts from militaries around the world. It's headquartered in Georgia...the country, not the state...and several watchdog groups have complained about its secretive practices."

"The point of the story: someone Magda worked with is our prime suspect," Eames concluded.

"That's what it looks like. But anyone who owed him money also had motive."

She stood up. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go track down the brother-in-law."

* * *

Michael Taggart looked up from the counter of his used bookstore when the detectives walked in. "Can I help you find anything?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Michael Taggart?" Eames asked.

"Yeah."

She smiled. "You're just what we're looking for." She made introductions.

"You're here about Kirk's death."

"That's right. We heard you owed him some money."

He nodded. "I still owe him about ten thousand dollars. He loaned me twenty-five thousand to help me start this bookshop. I made payments when I could, but a couple of weeks ago he said things were getting tight and he needed the money as soon as possible."

"Did you argue with him about it?" Goren asked.

"I might have. I told him it would take a while to gather up that much money, and he said that wouldn't be fast enough. Why?"

"Because now your brother-in-law's dead," Eames pointed out. "And that makes it hard for him to collect on the loan."

Taggart shook his head violently. "No way. I'd never kill anyone, not over money or anything. And do you think I'd do that to my sister? To my niece and nephew?"

While Eames continued questioning Taggart, Goren wandered into the maze of bookshelves. He heard someone reading aloud, and followed the voice to the children's books section. He recognized the two children sitting in a sofa from their photograph: Laurel's children, Vivian and Isaac. Vivian was reading to her brother. Her silky auburn hair fell across her cheeks.

"Hello," Goren said softly.

Vivian looked up. "Hi," she said, frowning. Isaac looked down and pushed himself back like he was trying to hide in the couch cushions.

The large detective knelt down so he was below the children's eye-level. "My name's Bobby. I'm a policeman." He showed them his badge. "Has your mother talked to you about what happened to Kirk?"

"She said he had an accident and...and died. She sent us to stay with Uncle Mike for a little bit."

"Did Kirk ever do anything that seemed weird?"

Vivian crinkled her nose. "No. He played Barbies with me and Isaac sometimes, and my friend Sherice said that was weird, but she was just jealous that her dad didn't play dolls with her."

Goren smiled, then continued. "Did you ever hear him talking to anyone when he didn't know you were around, that you got the feeling he didn't want anyone to be listening?"

"There was this one guy..."

Isaac spoke up. "Viv, Daddy told us not to tell."

"He told us not to tell _Mom,_" Vivian pointed out, then looked back at Goren. "This guy that came by Sunday afternoon last week...I know it was Sunday because that's when Mom goes grocery shopping. Dad told me and Isaac to go into the other room and play."

"Do you remember what your dad and the man talked about?"

She shrugged. "Dad said he'd pay him the rest of the money after the job was done. I didn't hear anything else."

"He called him 'Mr. Panyon'," Isaac said. "I remember because I used to have a teddy bear named 'Pan'."

"You still have that teddy bear," Vivian said.

"No! I'm too old for teddy bears!" Isaac started crying. He looked at Goren. "I'm really too old for teddy bears."

Vivian put her arms around her brother. She looked like she was trying not to cry herself. "Dad told him no one's ever too old for teddy bears," Vivian said in an effort to explain her brother's tears.

"He may have been right," Goren said softly. "Thank you, Vivian, Isaac." He stood up and turned around, and saw Eames watching him from the door.

* * *

"You were really good with those kids," Eames said as they drove away. "Mr. Panyon...that's more than we got from our other witnesses." 

"Children know a lot that adults don't want them to."

"I know. I remember being one."

Goren laughed.

Their next stop was the TelAcumen office. Mr. Gabor looked surprised to see them when his receptionist announced their arrival.

"Detectives, what can I do for you?"

"We just had a few more questions," Goren said.

"You could have called," he pointed out.

"It was on our way. Do you employ or know of anyone named Panyon?"

"No...I'm quite sure I've never heard that name before. Anything else?"

"Just...one thing. What would you do if you suspected one of your employees was engaging in...illegal activities?"

"That employee would be fired."

"Even if you couldn't prove it?" asked Eames.

Gabor answered quickly. "Considering how competitive our field is...Do you know how many people are watching us just looking for anything they can use against us? We can't afford even the suspicion of impropriety."

Goren nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you. That's what we wanted to know."

As they left, Eames asked, "Do you think it could be him? Trying to protect the company, or maybe himself?"

"Not necessarily," he answered. "I'm just trying to figure out if there's anything here someone would be willing to kill for."

* * *

Magda's office phone records were waiting on Eames' desk when they got back to 1PP. "Finally," she said as she picked up the papers. 

Another detective, McGowan, paused while walking past their desks. "Goren, your phone's been ringing off the hook for the past hour."

Goren frowned, and mumbled a thanks as Detective McGowan walked away.

"No one named 'Panyon.' One incoming call from a pay phone Friday night. Outgoing call to his wife right after that. It lasted almost three minutes. There's no way she could have done it," Eames noted.

The phone on Goren's desk rang. "Goren, Major Case," he answered. He tilted his head slightly, frowning.

Eames looked up at him. She couldn't hear whoever was on the other side, but she could tell from her partner's expression that it wasn't good.

"Uh...right. I understand...Yes. As soon as I can." He hung up, and without a word of explanation stood up and walked away.

"Goren?" Eames called after him.

He turned back to her, and looked like he was going to say something, but couldn't think of anything. The elevator door opened. He stepped in and was gone before Eames could process what had happened. Not knowing what else to do, she went back to the phone record.

Deakins came up to her a few minutes later. "They sent over the security footage from the Magda murder. Where's your partner?"

Eames tossed her hair back and smiled casually. "He's following a lead," she said, telling herself it was true for all she knew. "He doesn't know when he'll be back. I'll take a look at it."

Deakins accepted her explanation without question, and handed off the security tapes.

Eames frowned thoughtfully as they viewed the footage. She kept an eye on the time index in the corner. "Magda got a call from a pay phone a block away from his office at 8:52," she said. "And ten minutes later..."

The video showed Kirk Magda walk through the otherwise empty office building to the locked front door. He opened it, and someone wearing a hooded jacket entered.

"He's keeping his face hidden," Deakins noted. "He's up to something."

"But Magda doesn't seem to realize it," Eames said as she watched Magda talking to the hooded man, and then leading him back up to his office. Minutes later, the security footage showed the man, still hooded, dragging Magda's body to the elevator to take him to the roof.

"Doesn't narrow the suspects down very much," Deakins said. "We never see his face."

"At least now we know for sure it wasn't his wife."

"She could have hired someone to do it."

"I don't know where she would have gotten the money. Of course, women have other ways to get men to do things for them, but Laurel didn't strike me as the type."

Deakins paused the tape. "I'll give this to the computer guys and see what they can do about the face."

"Good idea."

"You can go home. It's getting late."

She shook her head. "I'm going to check out a hunch first."


	4. Tertium Quid

Chapter 4: Tertium Quid

Goren was a little late to work the next morning, so he was surprised that Eames wasn't there yet, until he noticed the desk-side garbage bin.

"Hey Goren," Deakins greeted him. "Did that lead pan out?"

"Huh?"

"That lead you were chasing last night. Did you get anything?"

Goren realized that Eames must have said something to explain his absence. "No. It was a dead end."

"I think Alex found something. She stayed late. We got the security tapes from the vic's office. The killer's a man, but we never see his face."

"When Eames gets in, tell her I'm checking out an alibi," Goren said.

"If I see her."

* * *

Goren found Katla Carlson, wife and alibi of the victim's wife's ex-husband, at the greenhouse where she worked. She was a tall woman with light blond hair in a tight French braid, pale blue eyes, and a snowflake complexion. 

"Hello, Mrs. Carlson?"

"Yes," she answered, in a voice with a light Icelandic accent.

"I'm Detective Robert Goren. I just need to ask you where you were Friday night."

"I was home with my husband. I made spaghetti that night. Why?"

"Did your husband leave at any time?"

"No. As soon as he got home from work at 6:30, he was with me all night. Do you suspect him of something?"

"Have you ever met Kirk Magda?"

"A couple of times. He was a very polite man. I was sorry to hear what happened to him."

"Did you see or talk to him on Friday?"

"I haven't seen him for weeks."

"Did he have any enemies?"

"I wouldn't know, but it's hard to imagine a man like him with enemies."

* * *

When Goren got back, Eames was at her desk. She looked up when she saw him. "Did the alibi check out?" 

"Blaser Carlson's wife said he was with her at home all night, which doesn't mean much. Did you find anything last night? You were here until, what, two...two-thirty?"

She looked surprised and suspicious. "I left at 2:20. How did you know?"

"When I got here this morning I saw four coffee cups in the trash. I know the janitor usually cleans out our trash between seven and eight p.m. When you stay late, you usually need a coffee at around nine, and then another one about every hour and a half later. Gives me a vague timeline."

"Sometimes you're too smart for anyone's good."

He flashed a distracted smile. "So...what kept you so late?"

"I figured that, considering the vic was so secretive about hiring him, our mysterious Mr. Panyon might have a criminal record. No one's as all-around decent as Kirk Magda seems to be."

"Did you find Panyon in the system?"

"No, but I kept digging. Luckily, Panyon's not a common name. I found a Danz Panyon with a private detective license."

"Have you called him yet?"

"I thought it might be more fun to pay him a surprise visit at his office," she replied, holding up her notepad, on which she'd written Danz Panyon's name and address.

For the first time all day, Goren smiled.

* * *

Danz Panyon's office wasn't exactly what people picture a private detective's office should look like. For one thing, it was tiny: a rented space on an upper floor of a multi-purpose building. It was also brightly lit, with sunlight blaring through the open venetian blinds of the single large window. The desk itself was small, black, metal...basically a writing desk with a short file cabinet shoved between it and the wall. The walls were bare, white, and relatively clean. Besides a small bookshelf beneath the window, the room was otherwise devoid of furnishings. 

Danz Panyon himself was nowhere near the stereotype of a P.I. He was youthful, clean-shaven, and small. His suit was on the cheap side, but pressed and professional. A boyish mop of chocolate-brown hair fell to his green eyes. He stood and smiled when the two detectives approached his open door.

"Hi. You look like cops," he said. Friendly, but with a vague wariness, like he was bracing himself for bad news.

"Detectives. I'm Bobby Goren. This is my partner, Alex Eames."

Eames was momentarily struck by Goren's use of the word "partner." It was probably due to how much she had been thinking about their partnership lately. She'd had a debate playing out in her mind all day on whether to go through with requesting a new partner.

"And what can I do for you?" Panyon asked.

"We're investigating the murder of Kirk Magda," Goren stated. He watched the P.I.'s reaction carefully.

Panyon dropped into his chair, a look of shock on his face. "He's dead? How?"

"Beat to death in his office," Eames said. "We know he'd hired you, and we need to know why."

"Uh..." He pulled open his file cabinet and drew out a folder. "He suspected one of his coworkers was involved in insider trading, but he wanted to make sure before he made a formal accusation, because he didn't want to get her fired if she was innocent."

"What's the name of the coworker?" Eames inquired as she drew out her notepad and a pen.

"Maria Ren. She's a legal consultant."

"Did you finish your job for him?"

"I confirmed his suspicion: Maria Ren has been dating a stock broker. This broker's recommendations to clients regarding TelAcumen correspond to information only Ren, Kirk, and a few others know in advance. I put a recorder under the table right before one of Ren's meetings with her contact and got proof of insider trading."

"Did you give the tape to Magda?" asked Eames.

"Not yet. I was going to the next time I met with him."

"What was Ren's cut?"

"I haven't figured that out exactly, but judging by the diamond necklace she recently purchased, I'd guess pretty hefty."

"Did she know you had figured her out?"

"I don't see how she could, but I don't know what if anything Kirk's said to her. I'll make you copies of all my notes on her. I guess since my client's dead the insider trading should be handled by law enforcement, anyway."

"That's a good idea. Did...Kirk have anyone else he suspected? Or did anyone threaten him?" Goren inquired.

"Not that I know of. But someone was following him. One day when I met with him we were tailed by someone...I didn't see his face, but he was driving a maroon SUV."

"Did you get the plate number?" Eames asked.

"No. Too far away," he said apologetically.

* * *

Goren was distracted when they returned to 1PP that evening. He was preoccupied with worries about his mother. She'd had a breakdown, and he'd stayed with her all night. He didn't want to let on how exhausted he was, but he'd noticed Eames casting the occasional curious glance his way. 

Eames wrapped up a conversation on her cellphone as she led the way to Deakins' office.

He looked up from his desk. "What did you find?"

"A suspect..." She was inturrupted by a sudden commotion behind her. Goren stubbed his foot on the edge of the door and stumbled. He'd been carrying Panyon's notes, which went flying from his hands all around the room.

"Sorry," he said as he stooped down to gather them up.

"Not your usual graceful self today, Goren," Eames said with a smirk. She spoke to Deakins as she helped pick up the scattered notes. "We found out who Magda was investigating in his company: Maria Ren. She's involved in insider trading. A couple of uniforms are bringing her in for questioning right now."

"Good. Hopefully we'll be able to wrap this case up soon. Are you okay, Goren?"

"Yeah. I...I just..."

Eames shook her head with an amused smile. "Kirk Magda hired a private investigator to make sure Ren was guilty before he formally accused her. I guess he really was a decent guy. The P.I. says he saw someone in a maroon SUV following Magda. Ren might've hired someone to take care of him before he could get her fired."

"That should show up in her bank records. I'll call Carver to get the warrant."

"Thanks." She handed a stack of disorganized papers to the flustered Goren. "Looks like our suspect's arrived," she said, glancing out the open office door to where two officers were escorting a very unhappy woman toward the interrogation room.


	5. Dead End?

Chapter 5: Dead End?

Eames and Goren faced Maria Ren across the table. She'd declined to have a lawyer present. "I have nothing to say," she said.

"Really?" Eames questioned. "Nothing to say for yourself about all those stock tips you've been leaking?"

"You can't prove anything."

"That's...where you're wrong." Goren took out the tiny recorder Danz Panyon had given to them. He pressed play, and watched the color drain from Ren's face as she heard herself divulging privileged information.

"Sounds pretty incriminating to me," Eames commented. "Thought of anything to say yet?"

"Where did you get that?"

"Let's just say you didn't kill Kirk soon enough to save your job."

Ren flinched. "What?You think...why do you think I killed Kirk?"

"He knew about your insider trading. He had enough on you to put you away."

"I didn't even know that! And even if I did...how could I have killed him? I knew him. He was my friend."

"And...a friend would never betray you by turning you in? Is that why you had him killed? Betrayal?" Goren pressed.

Panic was showing in Ren's eyes. "No. Look...yeah I dropped some stock tips. I know it was illegal. I did more than that...I embezzled thousands of dollars from TelAcumen. Check on my office computer under the file named 'business strategy'. Arrest me for that. But not murder! I swear, I didn't kill anyone. If you think I murdered him to keep him from finding out about all that, than why would I tell you now, right?"

Eames' eyebrows rose. "Are you sure you don't want a lawyer?"

"Actually...I think I would like one now."

* * *

"Do you believe her?" Eames asked later, as they prepared to leave for the day. 

"I believe that she really didn't know anyone was onto her."

"But if what she's saying is true, then we're out of suspects again."

"Do you think she's telling the truth?"

Eames looked up at him in surprise. "You're the genius profiler. I think you'd know better than I would."

He frowned. He didn't like it that Eames thought he didn't value her opinion. "Just...what's your impression?"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "Something's been bothering me about the security tape."

"What?"

"Magda opened the door for the killer. It looked like he knew him. Someone he trusted. It didn't look like someone hired to kill him."

"And, like you said before, a beating is usually personal," Goren added. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. "I wanted to thank you," he said. "For covering for me yesterday."

"You'd've done the same for me."

He took a deep breath, hoping Eames wouldn't take what he was about to say the wrong way. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

She turned to him, perplexed.

"It's just..." he quickly tried to explain, "to thank you. As a thank you."

She shrugged. "Sure. Not like I've got anything else planned tonight."

* * *

An hour later they were sitting in the Blue Monday Bar, a popular cop hangout a few blocks from the station.

Goren swished the beer in his mug in a little circle. "You know, Eames," he said, "I know I'm not the easiest person to put up with sometimes..."

"That's an understatement," she replied, smiling.

"After our first case together, I thought you were going to leave. I'm really glad I was wrong."

"Well," she shrugged, "I can put up with a lot."

He rested his chin on his fist and looked at her. "I've noticed that. It's one of the things that...make you a great cop. And a great partner."

Eames quickly looked down at the tabletop so he wouldn't see the glimmer of guilt in her face. "It's been interesting working with you, Goren," she said. "I've really learned a lot. from it." That was what she had planned to say to him when she broke the news that she'd requested a new partner. Now she'd have to think of something new. If she still wanted to go through with it.

Goren looked at the reflection of the room in his mug. Eames hadn't been his partner for long, but already he trusted her and respected her more than he had any of his previous partners. Of course, none of his previous partners would have covered for him if he left suddenly without explanation.

"Just tell me one thing," Eames said, breaking his reverie before he could think of a way to put his thoughts into words.

"What?"

"When you left yesterday, were you with your girlfriend?"

"Yolanna and I broke up." He stopped himself before explaining that they'd broken up a couple of weeks ago. He'd never told any of his partners about his mother, and he didn't want to start now. If Eames was going to take that as an explanation for his whereabouts, he was going to let her.

"I'm sorry. How long were you together?"

"Five months."

"Hm. Not too long. Did you go try to talk things out?"

He frowned at his drink. He wouldn't lie to her. "No."

She tilted her head. Her eyebrows flickered the way they did when she was wondering about something. "Then where did you go?"

Goren's eyes closed for a moment. He said quietly, "Family emergency."

"Ah." She nodded. "I understand that."

He looked at her, hoping she wouldn't try to dig deeper.

She looked back at him. "It's funny though...until now it didn't occur to me that you had a family." She smiled, and didn't say anything else about it.

In a moment, he smiled back. This felt like a real partnership, the kind he'd heard about but never experienced, where partners understood each other, trusted each other, relied on each other. He wondered if she felt the same, or if it was just wishful thinking. "You know, Eames...I really do value your input...your...partnership."

Eames sipped her drink thoughtfully. Goren could be the most frustrating person, sometimes, but there was so much more to him than that. She hadn't been lying when she said he was interesting, and that she'd learned a lot from him. The question she was asking herself now was: was it worth it?

She glanced back up at Goren. She had given up trying to figure out what he was thinking, but that didn't stop her from absently wondering. He was probably thinking about the case, or about whatever books he was reading, or following a trail of random ponderings on obscure subjects. But he was definitely deep in thought about something, with his generous lips touching the edge of his cup without drinking.

He was, she admitted to herself, somewhat endearing.

Goren realized she hadn't responded to his last comment. He hadn't found the silence awkward, but he suddenly worried that she did. He put down his mug and looked at her, catching her regarding him searchingly. Her delicate lips were set in a thoughtful line, and the blue twilight from the window worked its way through the dim interior of the bar to catch in her hair and eyes. He looked away quickly. "I...should probably..."

"Be going. Yeah, me too. Thanks for the drink. I'll see you tomorrow...partner."


	6. Yinyang

Chapter 6: Yinyang

"It's not her." Eames finished the last sip of her morning coffee and tossed the cup in the trash. "There's plenty of evidence in Maria Ren's bank accounts of her embezzling, but nothing that looks remotely like a payment to a hitman. She could have kept it off the books, but if she didn't have the sense to cover up her other crimes better than this, I find it hard to believe she'd start with that."

"And no one else from his work has motive," Goren said.

"That we know of," Eames added. "But just because he wasn't investigating anyone else at his company doesn't mean he couldn't have gotten on the wrong side of office politics, or been involved in an affair that turned sour."

He smiled at her. "You're determined to prove he wasn't the nice guy he seemed to be."

"Well, someone obviously didn't think too highly of him."

Goren nodded, but said, "But he let the killer in. It was after hours. The office doors were locked. If it was someone who worked there...he would have already been inside."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But that leaves us with nothing to go on."

"Not quite. The killer called from a pay phone down the street from the office. I don't think he walked there in the rain. Someone might have seen something."

* * *

The two detectives entered a pizzeria a block from the TelAcumen office. The pay phone the presumed killer called Magda from was visible across the street. 

"Can I take your order?" the young woman behind the counter asked with bland pleasantness.

"Not today. I'm Detective Alex Eames. This is my partner, Bobby Goren. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, God," she said. "What happened?"

Goren stepped forward. "A man was murdered not far from here." He read her name tag. "Alicia, were you working here Friday night?"

"Yeah. It was raining really hard. We had a lot of delivery orders and not a single walk-in. Why?"

"Did you see anyone use the phone across the street?"

"Yeah. A guy in a coat parked his car right in front of it, made a call, and then drove away. I thought it was really weird. God...was he a murderer? Did I see a murderer?"

"He wasn't a murderer yet," Eames said. "Do you remember anything about the car?"

"It was...black, maybe. Dark. An SUV. I read its plates, but I don't remember the number. I do remember it had rental plates, but I don't remember where it was from."

* * *

"This is interesting," Goren said over the papers spread out on his desk. "I pulled a list of all maroon SUVs that were rented out both on the night of Magda's murder and on Wednesday afternoon, when Panyon last met with Magda..." 

"That must be a pretty long list," Eames commented.

"Yes...but one name jumped out at me. Look at this."

Eames leaned forward to read the line he was pointing to. "Whadaya know; Kirk Magda. He rented the SUV his killer drove? Why? Did he hire someone to kill him to give his wife his life insurance money?"

"I don't think so. For one thing, it doesn't fit with everything we know about the vic. He would have been too concerned about the pain he caused to do anything that...rash. Besides, I still think the killer was trying to stage a suicide when he dragged the body to the roof. Magda wouldn't have hired someone to kill him and then stage it to look like a suicide. No, I think there's another explanation for this."

She shook her head slightly, trying to figure it out. "Maybe someone stole his credit card?"

"Or maybe..." Goren speculated thoughtfully. "Well, we know he had a reputation for generosity. Maybe he gave his credit card number to someone."

"His wife had access to it," Eames pointed out, frowning.

"A lot of people could have. We should look at the car. It was returned the day after the murder."

* * *

None of the employees at the car rental agency remembered who had rented the SUV, nor did they recognize the photos of any of the suspects in the case. Goren and Eames turned their attention to the vehicle itself. 

"This thing's been cleaned," Eames complained.

"It was returned like that," the rental agent who found the car for them explained. "We vacuumed it when we got it back, like we do for all our cars, but it was already cleaned."

"The killer was prudent."

"He didn't get everything," Goren said from the floor in front of the front passenger seat.

Eames turned toward him curiously. "What did you find?"

He stood up with a crumpled napkin in his hands, which he gently teased apart.

"That could have been there for who-knows-how-long."

"Not that long. Smell it." He held it out to her.

With a look somewhere between disgust and reluctance, she sniffed it. "Frying grease?"

"Spring rolls. And rainwater," Goren said.

"I guess beating someone to death would work up an appetite," Eames remarked. "CSU can probably get some DNA off that."

"We might have something better. An eyewitness." He held out the napkin for her to read the print on it, which consisted of a couple of Chinese characters, an address, and a phone number. "'Jade Bamboo Chinese Take-Out'."

* * *

Jade Bamboo Chinese Take-Out was a few miles from the crime scene. It was barely more than a door with the name painted on it and a sputtering neon "Open" sign in the window. 

When Goren and Eames walked in, they were greeted by a tiny woman with thinning grey hair. "What can I get for you?" she asked, sounding like she'd memorized the phrase.

"Wo men shi jingchayuan. Bie danyou. Wo you wenti."

"Nin de Hanyu hen hao."

"Xiexie. Xingqiwu wanshang, zhe ren, nin jian bu jian?" Goren took out the photos of their suspects and showed them to the woman.

"Wo bu zhidao. Bu renshi zhe wei ren. Xingqiwu de wanshang wo you yi wei guke."

"Zhende a? Ta xiangshi...?"

"Ta gao gao de. Hen shirun. Wo renwei hongse toufa."

"Hongse toufa? Ta?" He held up one of the photos.

She shrugged. "Shuobuding. Wo kan, bai ren dou tongyang."

Goren smiled. "Xiexie nin. Zai jian."

"Bie keqi. Leyu bang ni de mang. Zai jian," she replied.

He turned around and walked out.

Eames was too stunned to follow for a moment, then she caught up to him. "You speak Chinese?"

"Not much," he said.

"That's amazing."

A bashful smile fluttered on his lips at her praise. She was very pretty when she was impressed, he realized. "I spent some time in China and picked up a few phrases. I'm not conversational."

"Sounded conversational to me. What did she tell you?"

"She couldn't identify him from the photo, but she said the only customer she had Friday night...had red hair."

She almost gasped at the realization. "Blaser Carlson."


	7. Bait

Chapter 7: Bait

ADA Ron Carver shook his head again. "I'm sorry, detectives, but you don't have enough for a warrant. You can't prove that napkin even came from the killer, and Mr. Carlson did have an explanation for his hair being in the victim's office. So far, everything you have is circumstantial."

"We talked to Mrs. Magda, and she confirmed that her husband did let her ex use his credit card. He could easily have copied the number and used it to rent the SUV," Eames argued.

"But wouldn't he think it was a little risky to use the victim's own credit card to rent the vehicle he used to kill him?"

Goren shook his head. "He didn't know he was being watched, and he planned to kill Kirk Magda before he could catch on."

Deakins listened to the discussion thoughtfully. "But what was his motive?" he wondered. "He left his wife for another woman, not the other way around. And by all accounts, they got along well."

"Envy, maybe," Goren answered. "Precisely because Kirk was so well-liked, so popular. Even his generosity to his wife's ex husband made Carlson...resentful."

"Or Kirk could have been having an affair with the latest Mrs. Carlson. Stranger things have happened," said Eames, drawing bemused looks from the three men.

"Well," Carver continued, "either you find more evidence, or discredit his alibi, or your suspect walks." He and Deakins left.

Goren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if Mrs. Carlson knows her husband's a killer."

"She'd have to if she lied for him."

"Not necessarily. Some people have a remarkable capacity for self-delusion. I have an idea for getting her to turn on him. It will depend on you."

Eames smiled slyly. "You know I'm up for anything. What's the plan?"

* * *

Katla Carlson looked up from the orchid she was pampering when she noticed the large detective approach her through the greenhouse. "Mr. Goren, right? What can I do for you?" 

"I just need you to answer a couple more questions. How well do you know Laurel Magda?"

"Um...as well as I can be expected to. Blaser and I spend time with her and her children at family gatherings, but we don't talk much. Why?"

"How was her relationship with Kirk?"

"They seemed very happy. Do you think she could have killed him?"

"I can't discuss that with you. Right now, I'm just getting some background."

"So you don't suspect my husband anymore?"

Goren shook his head. "No. He has an airtight alibi for the night Kirk was murdered."

"Yes. He was with me."

He hesitated for a long moment before saying, "We know that isn't true. He was at a restaurant. Mrs. Carlson, did you know your husband is having an affair?"

She froze in shock. "No. That's impossible. You're wrong. I would know."

"Did he tell you where he was Friday night?"

"He told me..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "Why would he be having an affair?"

"Who ever knows why? You really haven't noticed him staying out late, going places without you? Has he bought you jewelry or flowers for no reason lately? Men who are cheating on their wives will do things like that out of guilt." He was guessing, but he figured if he planted the idea in her mind, she'd be able to find suspicious behavior to support it. After all, her husband left his ex wife for her, so she knew he was capable of it. He could tell by the look in Katla's eyes that she was considering that, too.

"So...he was with her on Friday night?"

"Yes. The waiter at the restaurant positively IDed him. The waiter also remembered seeing him there with you at least once."

She frowned deeply. "The Taj Mahal? It wasn't at the Taj Mahal, was it?"

"As a matter of fact, it was. How did you...never mind."

She suddenly shook her head forcefully. "You're lying," she stated. "This is some kind of trick."

Goren looked at her sympathetically. "Katla, I talked to his girlfriend. She confirmed Blaser was with her. I'm sorry."

"No. Blaser was with me. All night."

Goren nodded sadly. "Well, thanks for your help, Mrs. Carlson." He started to walk away.

"Wait!"

He turned back.

Katla didn't look at him. She fixed her eyes absently on the flower in front of her. "What does she look like, this mistress you say he has?"

"She's...petite, sandy blond hair, brown eyes. Pretty. If you want to see her, she's having dinner with him at the Taj Mahal at six o'clock this afternoon."

"He's working then. He's very busy."

Goren knew that, of course. It would have spoiled the trick to tell her some time her husband planned to be with her. All she had to go on was her husband's word that he was busy at work. "Look, if you want, I can delay your husband this afternoon. I haven't asked him what he knew about his ex-wife's marriage yet. You can go to the Taj Mahal and see or talk to his mistress without being afraid you'll run into him." He shrugged. "I'll make sure he's at least fifteen minutes late. You can go there or not. It's your choice." He walked away.

Katla continued to stare unhappily at the flower in her hands.

* * *

At six p.m., Katla entered the lobby of the Taj Mahal, an upscale Indian restaurant that she and her husband frequented. They used to meet there secretly when Blaser was still married to his ex. She didn't want to believe the detective, but it was true that Blaser had been reluctant to tell her where he'd been Friday night. It was only after the police questioned him about Kirk's murder that he told her that he and Kirk got in a fight and he'd accidentally killed him and needed an alibi. What if he told her that to hide that he was seeing another woman? 

She looked around the lobby and saw a blond woman who matched the description Detective Goren gave her. She was wearing a slim blue dress. Her hair was pulled into a twist with some loose strands allowed to fall across her face on one side. She kept checking her watch.

Katla took a deep breath and sat next to the other woman. She forced a friendly smile. "Looks like your date is late," she said.

"Yeah. It's not like him. Must be stuck in traffic or something." Her voice was deep and smooth. She looked up at Katla. "You waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. My...husband should be here any minute." She looked toward the door so the other woman wouldn't see the bitterness in her face. It was possible this woman wasn't her husband's mistress, but she was his type: blond, prim, intelligent. Katla was determined to find out the truth, but she wasn't sure how. "My husband just got off work. We decided to meet here after work, since we're both so busy with our jobs."

"Oh, I know what that's like. My boyfriend and I barely have time to see each other. Usually we meet right after work. He loves this restaurant."

Katla grimaced, but she hid it under a smile. "How long have you been dating?"

"A couple of months. How long have you been married?"

"Over a year. We knew each other for a long time before that. How did you meet your boyfriend?"

The woman paused for a moment, seeming to be trying to remember. "It was at a coffee shop. He spilled his drink on me."

"He doesn't like coffee," Katla blurted without thinking.

"That's right. He had tea." She gave her a strange look. "How did you know that?"

"Oh...I was...talking about my husband. Sorry. I shouldn't interrupt you."

"It's okay. My name's Allie. What's yours?"

"Katla."

"Katla?" Her eyes widened, like she'd suddenly realized something. She stood up. "I should go. I'm sorry." She started to walk away, but Katla grabbed her arm.

"Wait. Was he with you Friday night?" The other woman didn't answer, so Katla repeated more forcefully. "Was Blaser with you Friday night?"

"I really have to go." She yanked her arm away and speed walked out the door, pulling out her cellphone as she went.

Katla assumed she was calling Blaser to tell him what happened. She sighed angrily. So her husband wasn't a killer, but he was seeing another woman. She didn't know whether she was more relieved or disappointed.

"Carver," Alex said into her cellphone as she sprinted as fast as her high heels would take her to the waiting car, "Katla Carlson just admitted her husband wasn't with her Friday night."

"Nice job, Detective," the ADA said. "That should be enough to convince a judge to issue a warrant."


	8. Motives

Chapter 8: Motives

"I swear, I didn't kill Kirk," Blaser Carlson insisted to the two detectives across the interrogation table.

"Give it up. Your wife admitted you weren't home Friday night," Eames said.

"So...I went out. I told her to tell you I was home because I didn't have an alibi. That doesn't mean I killed him."

"We found a jacket when we searched your house...a jacket that looks a lot like the one the killer wore in the security footage," Goren added.

"I'm sure a lot of people have the same jacket."

"We matched your DNA to the napkin found in the SUV the killer drove," Eames continued.

"I rented an SUV last week. Maybe it was the same one and they just didn't clean it well enough after I used it."

Goren laughed out loud. "Blaser, we've got you. You know that. You're the only person whose DNA was found in the killer's car, with the jacket the killer wore, no alibi for the night of the murder, and motive to kill Kirk Magda."

Blaser looked away.

"What motive?" asked his lawyer.

Goren didn't take his eyes off Blaser. He spoke softly. "That's right, what motive? Everyone loved Kirk. Laurel was happier with him than she ever was with you. He was popular at work. His friends...he made friends easily. He was generous, kind, popular. He served as a constant reminder of everything you're not, everything you never could be. You saw how your kids played with him..."

Blaser suddenly winced like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"Your kids..." Goren continued. "Little Isaac and Vivian...they preferred spending time with him to you."

He looked up with tears in his eyes. "The Fourth of July picnic...they spent the whole time with Kirk. I had to watch him play soccer with them. He taught Vivian how to play chess. Isaac called for him when he got stuck climbing a tree. They barely even looked at me. My own kids..."

"And that's when you decided...he had to die," Goren said in a near-whisper. "You followed him, waiting for the opportunity. When an opportunity didn't come up, you made one. You called him, told him you wanted to talk to him about something. He trusted you. Honest people tend to trust people...more than they should. You killed him. You were going to make it look like a suicide, but you changed your mind because you realized your kids wouldn't get his life insurance if you did. It was all about your kids, wasn't it?"

Blaser nodded. "Do you know that they called him?" A small sob escaped his throat. "They called him 'daddy'."

* * *

Deakins looked up when Eames peeked inside his open door. "Got a moment?" 

"Sure. I hear Carlson is going to plead guilty. Nice job."

"Thanks." Eames stepped inside and pulled the door closed. "Have you filed my request yet?"

"Yeah. I sent it in this morning."

"Is it too late to take it back?"

He looked up in surprise. "No. I don't think that will be a problem."

"Good. I'd appreciate it. And I'd prefer if he doesn't find out about this. I never did tell him I'd requested a new partner."

"Of course. I won't say a thing. I'm glad you reconsidered, Alex. Do you mind if I ask, what changed your mind?"

She thought for a moment. It was hard to explain. Goren was intriguing. Trying, but intriguing. With him, there was no telling what the next case would bring. She had the feeling that if she left this partnership, she would be robbing herself of an adventure. "He did," she said simply.

* * *

Goren noticed the gift box on his desk. He looked at it quizzically. He examined it for a card or a name, any hint of who it was from or why it was there. Finding no clue on the outside, he carefully lifted the lid. 

"Think of it as a late birthday present."

He looked up at Eames, smiling at him from her desk.

"This is...nice." He lifted the leather binder from the box. "This is really nice."

"Now you won't have to worry about dropping important papers all over the place after a late night family emergency," she joked.

He stared at the gift, not quite sure what to make of it. He had lots of friends, but none of them were the kind of friend who gave him a gift for no reason. Maybe there was a reason he didn't know about? "Thank you," he said, uncertain but touched. "Thank you very much."

She replied with a cavalier toss of her hair. "What's a partner for?"

The End


End file.
